I have moved to a different planet
So I have to tell you guys about my new farrier service. Yes, service.
In graphical format, the experience can be summed up as follows:
-.- .. o.o .. o.O ... O.o ... O.O ... &hearts
Back in NV, I had this one sorta-redneck guy who did a pretty damn decent job on Flynn's feet (he was L.'s farrier too, and while L. is super-anal, she was always pretty happy with him), but you know, it was one guy in a truck, cold shoes, all very competent but nothing fancy.
And then I moved to KY. New!barn is maybe not the most gorgeous looking facility in that part of town (perfectly serviceable, clean, and safe, just not quite swanky) but the care is excellent and the feed is excellent and the arena footing is excellent and the cross-country field is beautifully groomed and, basically what I'm trying to say is new!barn has it where it counts. And while there's a good mix of people there that includes sort of casual riders and people who do just local/schooling shows, their main focus is on a fairly serious sporthorse/show/eventing clientele. (This? Is a little intimidating. But it's getting to be time for Flynn and me to put on the Big Girl Pants -- she's ready and I'm getting there -- so I'm also looking forward to the challenge).
Since I'm one of the full-care, stall board clients (and we will not discuss at this juncture how utterly strange it still is to not be an impoverished postdoc anymore) and Flynn and I are going into training with new!trainer when she's back from an out-of-state show, we automatically go on the list for the farrier they use for the training and competition horses. Today Flynn got her spa pedicure. I was not expecting a spa pedicure. (And I am SO NOT KIDDING about 'spa pedicure' thing here ...)
So anyway I wander down with Flynn a little early, and there's one farrier down there (British, and wearing a polo shirt), and his (adorable) assistant, and they've just finished their last horse for the day and they say "D. is going to do your horse, and he's not here yet. But we can get started while we're waiting." (And at this point I start feeling like I've walked into some fancy salon with my pony). So they pull Flynn's shoes and British!farrier clucks over how her front legs aren't entirely straight (part of it was how her feet had grown out, but yeah, she does toe out a bit on the right front) and studies her for a moment and then does some Very Expert trimming and suddenly things look much better. So I'm already impressed.
At this point D. (also polo-shirted) shows up (turns out he's the senior guy in this operation) and takes over, and finishes up the trim to his satisfaction (and it is a thing of beauty, this trim, really), and puts the most beautifully-fitted set of shoes I've ever seen on my horse. Then he delivers unto me a stern lecture as to how they're out at new!barn once a week, but if anything comes up in the meantime I am to call him whenever and not stint on my horse's care for his convenience; rest assured he'll come out because They Are a Service Oriented Business and There For The Horses.
And then the Adorable Assistant takes over, and buffs and polishes Flynn's hooves.
(And yes, compared to farrier-in-NV, this little spa experience was eye-poppingly expensive, but OMG. I could already see a difference in Flynn's walk, and I am so excited to hop on tomorrow and see how she moves).
seriously, if it weren't for the ridiculous heat index and the mosquitoes, I'd be pretty sure I was either in heaven or dreaming.
In other news, apparently the solution to everything that's been ailing us with the canter work is to do everything we've been doing in the arena, except do it either in the cross-country field or in one of the empty paddocks. IDEK, but hey, whatever works ...
In graphical format, the experience can be summed up as follows:
-.- .. o.o .. o.O ... O.o ... O.O ... &hearts
Back in NV, I had this one sorta-redneck guy who did a pretty damn decent job on Flynn's feet (he was L.'s farrier too, and while L. is super-anal, she was always pretty happy with him), but you know, it was one guy in a truck, cold shoes, all very competent but nothing fancy.
And then I moved to KY. New!barn is maybe not the most gorgeous looking facility in that part of town (perfectly serviceable, clean, and safe, just not quite swanky) but the care is excellent and the feed is excellent and the arena footing is excellent and the cross-country field is beautifully groomed and, basically what I'm trying to say is new!barn has it where it counts. And while there's a good mix of people there that includes sort of casual riders and people who do just local/schooling shows, their main focus is on a fairly serious sporthorse/show/eventing clientele. (This? Is a little intimidating. But it's getting to be time for Flynn and me to put on the Big Girl Pants -- she's ready and I'm getting there -- so I'm also looking forward to the challenge).
Since I'm one of the full-care, stall board clients (and we will not discuss at this juncture how utterly strange it still is to not be an impoverished postdoc anymore) and Flynn and I are going into training with new!trainer when she's back from an out-of-state show, we automatically go on the list for the farrier they use for the training and competition horses. Today Flynn got her spa pedicure. I was not expecting a spa pedicure. (And I am SO NOT KIDDING about 'spa pedicure' thing here ...)
So anyway I wander down with Flynn a little early, and there's one farrier down there (British, and wearing a polo shirt), and his (adorable) assistant, and they've just finished their last horse for the day and they say "D. is going to do your horse, and he's not here yet. But we can get started while we're waiting." (And at this point I start feeling like I've walked into some fancy salon with my pony). So they pull Flynn's shoes and British!farrier clucks over how her front legs aren't entirely straight (part of it was how her feet had grown out, but yeah, she does toe out a bit on the right front) and studies her for a moment and then does some Very Expert trimming and suddenly things look much better. So I'm already impressed.
At this point D. (also polo-shirted) shows up (turns out he's the senior guy in this operation) and takes over, and finishes up the trim to his satisfaction (and it is a thing of beauty, this trim, really), and puts the most beautifully-fitted set of shoes I've ever seen on my horse. Then he delivers unto me a stern lecture as to how they're out at new!barn once a week, but if anything comes up in the meantime I am to call him whenever and not stint on my horse's care for his convenience; rest assured he'll come out because They Are a Service Oriented Business and There For The Horses.
And then the Adorable Assistant takes over, and buffs and polishes Flynn's hooves.
(And yes, compared to farrier-in-NV, this little spa experience was eye-poppingly expensive, but OMG. I could already see a difference in Flynn's walk, and I am so excited to hop on tomorrow and see how she moves).
seriously, if it weren't for the ridiculous heat index and the mosquitoes, I'd be pretty sure I was either in heaven or dreaming.
In other news, apparently the solution to everything that's been ailing us with the canter work is to do everything we've been doing in the arena, except do it either in the cross-country field or in one of the empty paddocks. IDEK, but hey, whatever works ...